Camp Horseshoe

Who I am today in large measure is a result of Camp Horseshoe. My Dad was among the first campers in the 1930s, and I was a camper in the 1960s and counselor in the 1970s-80s when it was located on Horseshoe Lakes in Minong, Wisconsin. Even during the years when the camp was not in operation, among the first songs my children sang at bed-time was our Alma Mater, “Hail to the Forest,” followed by “Taps.” In 2004, when the camp re-opened in Rhinelander, I became an Assistant Director and "Keeper of Traditions."

Anyone who has heard the steady rhythm of rain on your tent while trying to get to sleep after a long day of paddling against the wind, shooting the rapids, and portaging your gear; or anyone who has seen the spectacular shimmering display of the Northern Lights while swatting at a swarm of twilight mosquitoes; or anyone who has tasted a trout that ten minutes ago was swimming in the brook, will appreciate why I am drawn to the Woods. For me the ideals of Thoreau’s self-sufficiency and of Aldo Leopold’s land ethic must be lived deliberately. There are some who can live without the wilderness, but I am not one of them.

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